There was chaos in the "warehouse." Generous gifts from two friends who encouraged me to sort through and keep treasures from their huge yarn bins resulted in bags that overflow my warehouse (single, previously-half-full crate). Bags are on the floor and a great mishmash lives in the crate. I am not complaining! But I like order. And I like to handle the wool--the more I did repeated hands-on reviews of my stash, the more tangled it became.
|Another dear friend, the wool winder|
My delight after finishing other Things I get to do today is to settle into some serious wool winding. There is a soothing magic that happens as scrambled hanks of yarn are transformed into beautiful cylinders of wound wool. It is a restful and unhurried process, draping the opened hanks of fiber around my knees to hold it in place, one hand holding the strand high and one hand turning the handle of the winder.
|Never thought of my knees being a substitute for hands before|
|Still space for the last bag|
It creates such peace and order that three bags of fibers now fit neatly in the space which before held only one. Make peace in the yarn bin. Make peace with where you are. Make peace. Look how tightly we can live together when we are at peace.
|Everybody's in the bin!|